


I Always Knew My Boy Was Good

by spnstuck



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Consensual, Explicit Consent, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Mild Angst, Mild Language, Mild Smut, Post-Canon, Royai - Freeform, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, anyway, hughes gets a name drop ill say that, like...actually mature, my first time writing something mature??, part of an art trade with gr8 friend kat, so does olivier, um anyway yeah, vague sexual content, what else to tag this as
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-14 23:21:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7195106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spnstuck/pseuds/spnstuck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Riza's house feels empty. She receives a phone call. Such is normal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Always Knew My Boy Was Good

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the amazing and fantastic tumblr user kyattoi. I don't know how to link in the notes section, but she's an amazing artist who draws some really stellar Royai. Everyone should check out her art blog for their own happiness.
> 
> Anyway, Kat you're one of my best friends and I'm not even sorry I lost the bet. I hope you like it!

It would be a lie to say that she wasn’t expecting the call; she had always, somehow, known he would call. 

So when a voice said “Can I come over?” on the crackling end of the line, she didn’t ask who was calling.

“It’s eleven o’clock, sir, ” she replied quietly, glancing at the clock above her bedroom door. “We have to work tomorrow.”

“You’re up,” he quipped, a curl of smugness in his voice. 

Riza bit her lip and sighed away from the receiver. “I’ll be here.”

 

Riza’s house felt oddly empty in the wake of the Promise Day. The stacks of paperwork littering the house had for the most been moved to the office, and the normal bustle of officers, friends, and overqualified teenagers had vanished from her hallways. 

She couldn’t quite grasp that it was over. Of course, investigations and lawsuits would begin, trials and paper trails that would root out Amestris’s corruption one indispensable government employee at a time. 

But Selim Bradley ( _ Pride,  _ she reminded herself,  _ Pride)  _ was dead. Fuhrer King Bradley ( _ Wrath _ ) assassinated by an Ishvalan. Maes Hughes had been buried months ago and fresh dirt still blanketed Captain Buccaneer’s coffin.

But Riza was still Lieutenant Hawkeye, serving under Colonel Roy Mustang. She sighed again, tapping her wineglass with one unpolished nail (the ring finger chipped from falling after having her throat slit).

There was a knock at the door. “I’m coming,” she called, shunting a few locks out of place before pulling the door towards her. 

Roy Mustang wore the slightly self-assured look that made Riza want to roll her eyes and kiss him.

She took a hitched breath and gestured inward. 

 

“Can I get you anything to drink?” She asked as he passed her on the way to the living room. 

“Just water is fine,” he replied. Riza frowned and scooted her wineglass out of sight.

“Is there a problem, Colonel?” She asked, setting down the water on the coffee table between them.

He ran a finger around the outside of the glass, interrupting a bead of water before it could reach the coaster. “Do I need a reason to check on my Lieutenant? Everyone’s still shaken up after the Promise Day.”

She shifted in her place on the couch opposite to him. “I’m fine, sir. Things have settled down.”

“Just paperwork downhill from here, right? I’ll promise to have it turned in only a week late,” he grinned.

“I’d like to see you try that under someone like Olivier,” she retorted, but not without the ghost of a smile creasing her eyes.

“She’d flay me.”

“She’d still make you turn it all in.”

“Maybe I’ll just dump it all on Hughes’s table-” He faltered, looking away. She couldn’t blame him, because even she hesitated by his office door sometimes, in order to pretend she hated being ambushed by baby pictures.

A taut silence swallowed the air between them. Roy rubbed his eyes tiredly. “Sorry-I’m sorry. Without so much going on anymore, it can feel like-like the time  _ before.” _

“I know,” she said softly, “The house feels a lot emptier.”

“I’m always a call away, Hawkeye.” His voice was too casual even when his gaze still hovered towards her darkened windows. “You know that.”

“I know,” she said again. She wasn’t sure about where this conversation was going: whether she feared or yearned for it. There was a border splashed between them somewhere, and she felt its neat lines smearing on every exchanged word.

“I’ve been thinking of getting another dog for-” 

“Riza, what the  _ fuck _ are we doing?” Roy stood up suddenly and began pacing the length of the room. Riza jerked in surprise, furrowing her brow as worry clenched her stomach.

“I’m not sure I understand wha-”

“You understand _exactly_ what I mean, Riza,” Roy spat, flinging the words at her with a painful intensity. He stopped in front of her. “We almost died the other day. No, fuck that, the _entire country almost died_ _the other day.”_

“I-I-” She stammered. She still didn’t know if she wanted to stop this conversation or not. 

“We’re only here because of the sacrifices made by a few people, including us. Dammit, Riza, I almost  _ lost you _ .” When he jerked his head up to meet her gaze, she flinched to see tears springing in his eyes.

“Everything we have ever known almost crumbled onto us,” he continued, “It’s because of us that anyone is still here to be even lonely tonight.” They were closer now, Riza noticed vaguely. Their knees brushed and he searched her face for words she didn’t know the shape of. “ _ We deserve this _ ,” he said.

“What?” She asked softly, everything about her shaky and light.

“You know what,” he answered. “We would’ve died. We would’ve never had the chance to…” He swallowed, and Riza watched the strong curves of his throat, the way it dipped artistically around his collarbone. “I don’t want to die before never giving ourselves the chance.”

“Why?” She whispered.

“You know why.”

“Why?” She asked again. Something strained in her chest, fluttering and beating at her core with hot feathers and brushing talons. Roy pulled a wave of her from her face, tangling a hand near her neck, eliciting a shiver that twirled down her back.

“Because I love you.” 

She kissed him.

Her lips asked no questions, delivering only answers to the soft warmth he offered.  _ I know _ , they whispered,  _ It’s okay. You, too. I love you too.  _ It was shy, innocent, two kids playing at something they weren’t sure of yet.

They broke apart, and Riza reached up to touch where cool air rushed against her skin in his absence. She felt dizzy. Her head buzzed.  

Their eyes met, the intensity of his expression snatching her breath before it reached her lungs. “Do you want-”

“Yes,” she breathed, crumpling his shirt in her hands and tipping her head up so that their lips met again. There was nothing polite in this kiss. It made demands, from her tongue swiping across his lips to coax them open, to his tearing her jacket from her shoulders, pulling her against him on the couch.

Her hands threaded through the buttons on his shirt, pulling them open to expose the planes underneath, the angles she had historically only admired through furtive glances. With one nail she traced the puckered flesh stenciled into his side. To think that she had thought she’d lost him then, when now she felt him, hot and alive underneath her. 

Roy was right. They had earned this.

Her shirt hitched up where he slid his hands underneath it. They fumbled around her back, scratching her spine in an effort to unhook her bra. “I can’t-get the damn-how do you-” He hissed through gritted teeth.

She laughed softly, guiding his fingers to the clasp, and the black fabric slid to the ground to join her shirt. Riza leaned forward again, but Roy backed up and held her away, at arm’s length. She frowned in confusion.

“Wait-just wait,” he whispered shakily. “I just-let me look at you.” His eyes swept her torso, lingering on her shoulders, her chest, glowing when they landed on her warming face. “I don’t know how I restrained myself for this long,” he said, “You’re beautiful.”

A grin melted across her face. She leaned into him, tugging on his belt. “You’re not bad yourself, Colonel.”

They shed the remainder of their clothes, Riza already light-headed with the smoky scent of him wrapping itself in her hair. He pulled her closer, crushing her body tenderly with his own. She splayed one hand around his shoulder, and they tumbled together off the couch: a snarl of limbs and breaths. 

He pinned her arms over her head with his own, kissing her roughly, wildly, desperately, a flame searching for the last snatch of air from her mouth. She responded in kind, trailing gentle bites along his jaw, even daring to lick the pool created by the dip in his collarbone. 

His finger skittered along the inside of her thigh, making her shudder and hitch with pleasure. She watched the same effect play across him when she dragged nails across his back, opening her legs to allow them to be closer, more alive than she had thought they could be. 

They settled into a sort of rhythm that thudded through to her fingertips, a molten wave pouring along the creases of her body. Riza moaned softly into Roy’s ear; he shattered at her touch. She giggled at his expressions whenever they shifted (somewhere between determined and slightly confused, maybe something related to awe); he rolled his eyes and pressed her harder each time. She teased at his earlobe; he stroked circles around her breast, pulling a gasp from her parted lips.

And so it went on, with Riza collapsing on herself every time she caught his eye and he grinned.

Roy’s hair stuck up at exaggerated angles, though Riza wasn’t sure she looked much better. She purred, kissing him where one lock was plastered to his forehead. They were slowing down now, Roy’s breathing slowing as he unhooked a leg from around her back. Riza pulled a blanket from the couch down on top of them, adjusting so that she could rest her head in the crook of his shoulder. 

“That was...nice,” she murmured into the velvety silence.

“I can’t believe you called the best sex of my life just “nice,” he said. Riza kissed him again.

“Well, Mustang...there’s always tomorrow.” 

She could just make out the curve of his smile. “I suppose, Riza, that you’re right. There is indeed tomorrow.”

She sighed contently against his neck. “You’re right. We’ve...we can have this, right?” 

“There are couples out there who have never promised to die for each other. Riza...that’s every day for us. I’ve seen you lay everything you know on the line for me. I’ve done the same for you. I can’t do that again and not...love you.”

A pause.

“I love you,” she whispered.

“I know,” he whispered.

 


End file.
